Dog Day's
by ImagineThis22
Summary: Joan's hand dove into her pocket to retrieve her phone. She unlocked it and turned the bright screen at the source of the whimper. When her eyes focused on the source of the noises, she wasn't scared anymore.
1. Chapter 1-Meet Miller

Joan walked along the dark, cold New York streets heading towards the Brownstone, where Sherlock was most likely working on cold cases that could use her assistance. She had refused to take a cab home seeing as she had skipped her jog that morning. In her hand she held a bag of Thai food and in the other, her clutch purse. The only noises on the street were those of wind whistling through the alley ways and her heels clicking on the pavement. As she passed a long, dark alley, she was startled by a loud crash. It sounded as though someone had ran into a dumpster or chucked something against it. She found herself walking faster, trying to escape the source of the noise. Joan had made it 10ft from the alley when a whimper made her pause. She turned and faced the alley. She slowly made her way to the opening to the alley and listened for the whimper again. Sure enough, it came again. Joan squinted her eyes trying to see in the pitch black.

"Hello…?" She called cautiously.

A whimper came in reply.

Joan's hand dove into her pocket to retrieve her phone. She unlocked it and turned the bright screen at the source of the whimper. When her eyes focused on the source of the noises, she wasn't scared anymore.

A small golden puppy sat, petrified, in the corner of the alley. It was pushing itself farther into the corner as Joan approached.

"Why hello there, sweetie pie." She cooed. The puppy made another whimper and looked up at her with sad eyes. Joan looked at the puppy's paws and noticed that he was favoring one paw. "Awe, you're hurt…" She kneeled down and set the bag of Thai food down. The puppy's nose twitched and he glanced at the bag. She noticed and fished out her meal. "Are you hungry?" Joan offered the dog some of the noodles by pushing the box towards him. The puppy kept his eyes on Joan as he timidly sniffed the food and began eating. Joan sat perfectly still and let the puppy eat. When the puppy finished, it went to the corner and cowered. Joan cleaned up the mess and held her hand out for the puppy to sniff. At first, the dog was reluctant to smell her so she scooted forward. "It's okay. I won't hurt you." She smiled as the puppy shyly sniffed her hand. "See?" Joan lifted her hand and carefully scratched the puppy behind his ears. The puppy closed its eyes and when Joan stopped, limped towards her. She carefully lifted the puppy, making sure not to touch the injured paw. "Let's get you home."

Joan walked home to the Brownstone and bounded up the steps. She opened the door and felt her heart drop as she noticed the lights were on. She was hoping that Sherlock had gone to bed because he wasn't a fan of any animals.

"Watson? You were supposed to be home a half-an-hour ago. What were you…" His voice trailed off as she entered the room, still holding the puppy. "What is _that_?"

"A puppy…" She carefully set the dog down and it limped towards him.

Sherlock jumped up and made a wide circle around it to get to Joan. "What is it doing in my house?" He asked when they were standing face-to-face.

"Sherlock, its hurt…" Joan kneeled down as the puppy limped over to her. She pat him on his head and looked up at Sherlock. Sherlock was scowling.

"I hate animals. I especially hate dogs." Sherlock snapped. He looked at the pathetic little bag of fleas and frowned.

"You like Clyde though…" She countered.

"Clyde is a _reptile_." He countered back. He still was looking at the disgusting creature on the ground and frowning.

"Which is an _animal_. He's hurt Sherlock…I need to help him." She kissed the puppy's snout.

Sherlock groaned. "That's disgusting. You don't know where it has been!" He stepped away from the dog like it was a rabid animal. "Get rid of it."

"No. I need to help it." Joan picked it up and headed for the kitchen.

"How?" He followed close on her heels.

Joan sat the dog down and it sat, waiting for her. She opened the cupboard and produced a bowl. She filled it with water and let the puppy drink as she replied. "I could probably put a cast on his leg; it looks broken."

"A _cast_? _Really,_ Joan? You were a surgeon, not a vet!" He frowned as the puppy drooled all over his favorite cereal bowl.

"Well then I'll take him to the vet." She went to the sink and got a dish-towel to clean up the water on the floor. She knelt down and wiped up the drool water on the ground as the puppy explored.

"I'm not paying for it." Sherlock stated. He picked up the bowl and ran to the sink. He quickly set it down and washed his hands with a lot of soap to clean all the drool off. "Germs…" He mumbled to himself.

"I'll pay for it." Joan stated back. She tossed the rag at him and watched him squirm as it touched his skin.

"And how are you going to do that?" He washed his hands again and splashed water over every part of his skin that he thought the puppy's drool had touched.

"You pay me, remember?" She leaned down and stroked the puppy's back. The puppy had crawled into the parlor and found a pile of Sherlock's dirty shirts to make a bed out of. It curled itself into a little ball and fell fast asleep.

Sherlock growled. "You're going to wash those." He glared at her and fought the urge to kick the dog off his shirts.

"I will. Okay?" Joan looked at the clock and yawned. "I'm going to bed. Watch him, won't you?"

"I will not. That infernal creature is disgusting. All it does is eat, poop, sleep, and repeat! I want it gone!" Sherlock yelled as Joan climbed the stairs.

"Give him a chance, Sherlock. You may learn to love him." She winked to him and went to her room.

"Not a chance." Sherlock looked towards the creature on his shirts and growled. "You're just lucky I don't know any recipes for cooking _dog_." He mumbled under his breath at the puppy. The puppy grumbled in his sleep and made a little noise as it yawned. "No matter how cute that was…" He sat down on the ground next to the puppy and began thumbing through the files. The puppy yawned again and stretched itself across Sherlock's lap. "No! No, no…" He tried moving out of the puppy's way but it had already rested its head on his leg. He moved his leg, trying to get the puppy's head off but it yelped and Sherlock stopped. "Sorry…" He found himself apologizing and settled back into his original position. The puppy closed his eyes again and fell asleep. "Did I just apologize to a _dog_?"

The puppy opened one eye and looked up at the strange man. It stuck its tongue out and licked his hand.

Sherlock jumped and scowled. "Gross!" He shook his hand to get the drool off. He wiped his hand on his pants and returned his focus towards the files. He was interrupted when the puppy started kicking and crying in his sleep. Sherlock watched as the puppy's eyes fluttered open and shut while his legs twitched. The puppy let out a cry and a yelp and Sherlock felt sympathy for the little creature. He placed a hand on the puppy's tummy and started to stroke it softly. "Shhhh…It's okay, it's okay." The puppy calmed and went still. It let out a sigh and Sherlock smiled. "Good puppy…" He continued to stroke the puppy's side as he studied the cold cases.

After an hour, the puppy became restless. It had woken up and was pacing the length of the room. It limped and whined every time it accidentally put pressure on his injured leg. Sherlock got up and went to his computer. He entered 'travel vets in NY' and hit enter. He picked up his cell phone and dialed the number.

A short while later, the travel vet let himself in. He was told to do so by Sherlock, himself. Sherlock told him to because he didn't want to wake Joan seeing as it was four in the morning.

"Ah, Doctor Lithorum. Thank you for coming so early in the morning." Sherlock was holding the squirmy little puppy as the man entered the living room.

"No problem, Mr. Holmes. How about we get that leg all fixed up?"

…

Joan awoke to a wet tongue bath.

"Huh?" She opened her eyes and found the puppy wagging his tail and giving her face a cleaning. She laughed and sat up. "How did you get up the stairs, hun?" She kissed the puppy's head.

"Miller."

"What?" Joan looked up at the man in the doorway.

"Miller. That's his name." Sherlock walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

"You gave him a name?" She looked down at the puppy's leg in a cast and smiled. "And you fixed his leg?"

"Yes. I called a vet and he fixed him up, good as new." He smiled and awkwardly pet the dog's head.

"I told you that you'd love him if you got used to him." Joan smiled at Sherlock as he pet the puppy.

"You were right." Sherlock laughed. He stroked the puppy and looked at her.

"So…should we start looking for people to adopt him?" Joan's smile disappeared as she thought about giving the puppy away.

"Miller is staying here." Sherlock stated. He watched as Joan's smile reappeared on her lips.

"Really?" Joan grinned.

"Really." Sherlock gave the puppy a hug. The three sat on Joan's bed and pet their new family member.

"Shouldn't we be working on a case now?" Joan asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes we should be. Let's go." Sherlock helped Joan out of bed and they left the room, headed for the parlor.

The puppy sat on the bed and whined as he realized he was alone.

"Miller!" Sherlock called from the hallway. The puppy's tail wagged and he jumped down from the bed to join his new family.

**_THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE FAVORITE AND REVIEW! _**

**_If you didn't get it, the puppy's name is Miller for Jonny Lee Miller (Sherlock Holmes) _**


	2. Chapter 2-Case Pt 1

"No! Miller, _down!_" Sherlock yelled as the puppy jumped up at him for his food. "SIT!"

"Miller, sit." Joan commanded from the doorway. The puppy whined once before sitting and patiently looking up at Sherlock with the puppy food.

Sherlock looked up at Joan, surprised. "How did you do that?"

"Do what? Make him sit?" Joan came into the kitchen and went to the fridge.

"Yes. I have been _trying_ to make him sit for five minutes now!" Sherlock placed the bowl of food in front of the puppy and leaned up against the counter.

"You can't scream at the poor thing. You have to be demanding; make him listen without screaming at him." Joan explained as she got a water bottle from the fridge and shut it. She leaned up against the counter next to Sherlock as they watched the puppy devour his food.

When Miller was done eating, he looked up at them with his deep brown eyes.

"No…No. You're not getting any more till tonight so don't look at me like that." Sherlock picked up the empty bowl and put it in the sink.

"Sherlock, he's starving. Give him some more." Joan took a drink of her water bottle and smiled at Miller.

"If he eats any more, he's going to get fat." Sherlock knelt down and stroked the puppy's head.

Joan rolled her eyes and smiled. "Fat puppies are cute! There is more of them to love." She knelt down by Sherlock and scratched Miller behind the ears.

***Knock* *Knock* *Knock* **

Miller's ears perked up and he started to wag his tail.

"I'll get it. You hold Miller." Sherlock got up to get the door as Joan picked Miller up.

Joan cradled the puppy in her arms and made sure not to hurt his healing leg. For being a puppy, he sure weighed a lot.

Sherlock opened the door and found Detective Marcus Bell standing next to Captain Gregson on the Brownstone doorstep. "Captain! Detective! Come in, come in!" Sherlock motioned for them to come inside and they obliged.

"Holmes." Detective Bell nodded in greeting. He removed his coat and hung it up.

"Where is Ms. Watson?" Captain Gregson asked as he removed his coat and hung it up next to Marcus'.

"In here!" Joan called from the kitchen.

They walked as a group into the kitchen and found Joan struggling to hold on to a squirming puppy.

Joan set Miller down and the puppy bounded over to where Detective Bell was standing with Gregson.

"Whoa…Who is _this_?" Marcus knelt down and Miller jumped up to lick his face. "It's cute."

"His name is Miller." Joan smiled.

"Is he yours?" Captain Gregson asked Joan.

"Ours, actually." Sherlock smiled and exchanged a look with Joan.

"Oh…I _see_." Marcus smirked. Miller had rolled over and the detective was scratching the pup's tummy.

Gregson smirked also. "So you guys got a dog together…?"

Joan blushed and looked to Sherlock who was also letting the redness flush to his cheeks.

"Yes…but it's not what you guys think." Sherlock replied, trying to hide the blush in his cheeks.

"Uh-huh…_sure_." Marcus snickered. He looked at Captain Gregson and the Captain began to laugh too.

Joan cut in and picked up Miller. "No more puppy for you two."

Marcus and Captain Gregson made a fake noise of disappointment before standing up.

"So, you came here for…?" Sherlock redirected the group's attention from the puppy to him.

"Huh? Oh! Yes. We've got a new case." Gregson answered.

Joan continued to hold Miller as Sherlock was briefed on the new case. She found herself uninterested so she took the puppy to her room. She put him down, placed a kiss on his head, and left the room, shutting the door behind her. When she came back into the kitchen, everyone was gone. She looked around for a note from Sherlock telling her where he was going but there wasn't one.

"_Thanks_, Sherlock. I thought I was supposed to be _learning_ from you!" She spoke sarcastically to the empty room. She searched for her phone and before she even had the chance to unlock it to call him, it vibrated. She looked at the screen and sure enough, a text from Sherlock lit up the screen.

**_B bak soon. Tk care of Miller tll I gt bak._**

Joan sighed. She sat down on the couch and turned on the T.V. Joan stretched out and brought her feet up on the couch to lounge. She shut her eyes and tried to ignore the cries coming from Miller upstairs.

Is this all she was reduced to? A dog sitter? She hoped not. The whole reason she decided to stay on with Sherlock was because she wanted to learn his ways of deduction and detective work. If she was just going to be the one to stay home and watch the puppy, she didn't know why he even offered to teach her.

The crying continued and Joan gave up trying to take a nap.

"_Fine_! I'll let you out!" Joan got up and walked up the stairs to her room. She opened the door and Miller skittered out. Joan was about to shut her door again when something caught her eye. She entered the room and found that Miller had ripped apart a folder with a closed case. She bent down and sighed. "At least that case was solved…"

Miller ran into the room and sniffed the paper he had shredded to pieces. He picked up a picture that had not been shredded in his mouth and pawed at Joan.

"What?" Joan looked at the puppy and rolled her eyes. "Give me that." She took the photo from the puppy's mouth and was about to put it back in what remained of the folder but something strange made her pause. She analyzed the picture and she gasped. "No way…"

She jumped up and ran out the door. She grabbed her coat and ran out onto the sidewalk, still holding the picture. She pulled out her phone and dialed Sherlock's number.

"Watson, what do you-" Sherlock started.

"Sherlock," Joan cut him off, "where are you? I have something that you _need_ to see."

"And what is that?" Sherlock asked, uninterested.

"Just tell me where you are. I'll meet you there." Joan paced on the sidewalk while gripping the picture so it wouldn't blow away into the cold New York street.

"1678 Liu Street. Why?"

"I'll be there in ten. Wait for me." Joan hung up the phone before he could reply. She started to hail a cab but stopped in her tracks. She ran up the Brownstone's front steps and opened the door. "Miller!" She called into the empty home. Miller came running and she grabbed the leash from the table by the door. She clipped him on the leash and began to walk, headed for Sherlock's location. She praised the puppy, "Great job, Miller. You may have just solved the case."

**_THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE POST A REVIEW AND FAVORITE!_**

**_If you didn't get it, Liu Street was named after Lucy Liu (Joan Watson)._**


	3. Chapter 3-Case Pt 2

Joan entered the address into her GPS and began following the directions toward Sherlock's location. A vibration made her look at her phone again. A new text from Sherlock lit up the screen.

**Lft th lctn. hedd fr NYPD.**

"Make up your mind, Sherlock!" Joan groaned. She turned and began to run towards the NYPD building.

...

"Sherlock!" Joan yelled as she spotted Sherlock talking to Gregson by the coffee machine in the hallway of the NYPD offices. She walked towards him quickly with a squirmy Miller in her arms.

"Joan…Dogs aren't allowed…" Gregson eyed the puppy in her arms.

"Sorry, I had to bring him along since _someone_ left me to babysit him." She glared at Sherlock.

Sherlock shrugged. "Hey, I texted you where I was going."

"Yes, but then when I was half-way there, you texted me again saying you were here! Make up your mind." Joan snapped.

"I still told you where I was going." Sherlock rebutted.

Joan struggled to keep the energy-filled puppy in her arms and keep her emotions under control. "Well I thought we were supposed to be a _team_. If all I'm good for is babysitting our dog-" She started to raise her voice.

Gregson cleared his throat.

Joan lowered her voice and dropped the subject. "Sorry, Captain."

"So? What was so important that you couldn't wait to tell me when I got home?" Sherlock stirred his coffee.

Joan lowered the puppy to the floor and fished the photo out of her pocket. She held it up in front of him as she held the puppy's leash in the other hand. "Look closely. What do you see?"

"A woman…Lawyer maybe...or a woman in some sort of political position…" Sherlock rambled.

"No, no. Look at her necklace." Joan was getting anxious. She wanted him to confirm her suspicions and tell her she was right.

"A cross? So what?" Sherlock grabbed the photo and brought it closer to his face so he could see it better.

"That's just it. Why would she be wearing a cross? The family told us that Amilee was an atheist." Joan smiled as realization flickered across Sherlock's expression.

"You're right…" He looked at the necklace and analyzed the woman's face.

Joan felt relief that her observation was correct. "And if Amilee was an atheist, she wouldn't be wearing a cross, so..."

"Then this is not Amilee…" Sherlock finished. He gave the photo to Gregson and the captain raised his eyebrows.

"It seems that Ms. Watson has just made a huge break in the case of Amilee Wentz. The new case can wait. Right now, we need to take a second glance at Amilee's murder." Captain Gregson gave her a congratulatory smile.

"I also have a theory about the body in the morgue. Everyone thought that it was Amilee, but since the woman has the cross around her neck, it's not Amilee. It is possible that Amilee had a twin and that's who is in the morgue." Joan pulled on the leash as Miller tried pouncing at an officer that was passing by.

"Very good, Watson. I'm impressed." Sherlock smiled. "What made you want to take a second look at Amilee's murder case?"

"It wasn't me, actually…" Joan looked down at Miller.

Sherlock followed her gaze. "You're telling me the _dog_ figured it out?"

Gregson stifled a laugh.

Joan saw Gregson struggling to hold in a laugh and glared at him. She looked back at Sherlock and sighed. "Yeah. Miller was tearing up paper and he just happened to pick up a picture of Amilee. I looked at it and that's when_ I_ figured it out."

He bent down and stroked the puppy's head. Sherlock laughed. "Well Watson, it seems that I should hire Miller as my apprentice instead of you." He looked up at her and smirked.

"First of all, I'm not your '_apprentice_' and second of all, _I_ figured it out. It was just a coincidence that Miller would pick up the picture of Amilee and show me." Joan crossed her arms.

"So the dog…_showed_ it to you?" Sherlock burst out laughing.

Joan smacked Sherlock against the head and glared at him. She looked at Gregson and saw that he was holding in a laugh. She glared at him too. Gregson had a slight smile on his lips and Joan felt like smacking him like she had smacked Sherlock.

Gregson noticed she was angry and about to lash out at him, so he held up his hands in defeat. "I'm sorry…Don't hit me too."

"Can we just start working on the case?" Sherlock rubbed his head in the spot that Joan's hand had hit him. He was done joking with her; that smack against his skull really hurt.

"Good idea." Joan unclenched her fists and took a deep breath to calm down. She scooped the puppy into her arms and made her way to the elevator. "Meet me at the Brownstone and bring Amilee's case files."

"Okay, we'll head on over in ten minutes." Gregson pulled on Sherlock's arm. He didn't want Sherlock to instigate Joan any more than he already had.

"Bye." Sherlock waved.

"You're going to see me in like 20 minutes, Sherlock. You don't have to say good-bye." Joan smiled, happy that he was being cordial.

"I was talking to the dog." Sherlock smirked and let Gregson pull him away.

Joan rolled her eyes. So much for being cordial.

**_THANKS FOR READING! SORRY THAT IT WAS SO SHORT! I'M TRYING TO MAKE IT MORE INTERESTING BY ADDING A MYSTERY. I PROMISE THERE WILL BE MORE CHAPTERS WITH JOANLOCK FLUFF AND PUPPY FLUFF. :D_**


	4. Chapter 4-Case Pt 3

**_SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT HERE IS THE NEXT CHAPTER!_**

Sherlock sat on the couch studying a copy of Amilee's twins' autopsy report while Miller cuddled in by his feet. Gregson sat on the adjacent couch with Bell and Joan was on the floor going over pictures of the crime scene.

"Is there any record of Amilee having a twin?" Joan asked anybody who would listen.

"There is a record of her having a sibling, but I can't find any information on them. It doesn't even tell me what gender they are…" Sherlock scratched his head.

"That's strange…" Gregson spoke up. He thrust the paper towards Bell and Bell nodded.

"That is strange…take a look at this." Detective Bell handed the paper to Sherlock.

Sherlock took the paper and Joan got up from the floor to sit by him.

Joan leaned over to get a better look at the paper and gasped. The paper was a print-out of an email Amilee had gotten from a woman named Rhae Polux. "Threats?"

Sherlock nodded. "We need to find this Rhae Polux. She seems worth talking to."

"But what if she's Amilee's twin…? The one in the morgue…" Joan protested as Sherlock got up from the couch and sat at the computer.

"Well there's one way to find out…" Sherlock logged into Facebook and searched the name. He scrolled through all the results Facebook had given him and clicked on one. "There we go."

Joan, Bell, and Gregson got up and crowded around Sherlock to look at the profile.

"She looks like Amilee…" Joan started.

"Precisely." Sherlock interrupted.

"But…we know the body in the morgue isn't Amilee…Then it must be Rhae…" Joan started working it out in her mind.

"Exactly." Sherlock was waiting for Joan to finally unravel it by herself.

Joan stared at the photo. "Why would we talk to Rhae if she's the one in the morgue?"

Sherlock sighed in frustration. "Really, Watson? If you want to be a detective, you have to unravel these things by yourself."

Joan glared at him and tried to see where he was going with this. After awhile of staring at the photo, Joan came up with an idea of what could've been Amilee's plan. "You think Amilee has taken Rhae's identity?"

Sherlock grinned. "Excellent, Watson. Yes, I do. If Amilee murdered Rhae, there must be a motive. We don't know why Rhae was threatening Amilee; that's what we need to ask. If we find 'Rhae'…" Sherlock pause to let Joan finish.

"Then…we'll find Amilee." Joan smiled, proud that she had figured part of it out.

"Don't you find it suspicious that the parents of Amilee didn't tell us anything about a twin?" Captain Gregson asked.

"I think we should have a talk with them…don't you?" Sherlock stood and grabbed Miller's leash.

"What are you doing?" Joan asked as Sherlock hooked the leash onto Miller's collar.

"If we're going to talk to the parents, I want to take Miller…maybe he'll scare the truth out of them." Sherlock smiled and patted Miller's head.

Joan smiled and grabbed her coat as Captain Gregson and Detective Bell did the same.

They all shuffled out the door and headed for Amilee's parents house.

…

"So why are you here again?" Amilee's mother asked Captain Gregson as they entered the home.

"It's about Amilee." Captain Gregson answered.

"And her sister Rhae." Joan added.

Mrs. Wentz stopped in her tracks and turned on them. "What are you talking about?"

Mr. Wentz glared at them. "Amilee doesn't have a twin."

"We didn't say anything about them being twins, Mr. Wentz." Detective Bell arched an eyebrow.

Mrs. Wentz glared at her husband. "You idiot!" She smacked him and was poised to smack him again, but Gregson stopped her.

"I think now would be a good time to explain the twin situation." Captain Gregson steered her towards the living room and sat her down.

Mrs. Wentz yanked her arm away and scooted far away from them. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"Oh I think you will." Sherlock smirked.

"Oh really? Why would I say anything to you people?" Mrs. Wentz challenged Sherlock.

"Well, you see, my puppy here…his name is Miller…" Sherlock added, "he isn't potty trained…"

Mrs. Wentz eyed the puppy and narrowed her eyes at Sherlock. "What are you getting at, boy?"

"Well, you have such nice carpets and they look really expensive…" Sherlock looked down at the puppy that had just started to whine. Sherlock knew the puppy had to go outside and do his business.

"I swear, if that dog pisses in my house…" Mrs. Wentz started.

"Well he won't…_if _you tell us everything you know about where Amilee is. We know that Rhae is the one in the morgue. Tell us about what happened with Rhae and where Amilee is hiding and _maybe_ your carpets will be spared." Sherlock knelt down and scratched Miller behind the ears.

"Fine! Just take that damned dog outside!" Mrs. Wentz gave up.

Sherlock was about to give Joan the leash, but he remembered her rant about feeling like all she was to him was their dog babysitter. He thrust the leash at Detective Bell and Bell reluctantly took it. Bell left the home with Miller and Mrs. Wentz let out a sigh of relief.

"Talk." Captain Gregson demanded once Miller was outside.

Mrs. Wentz glared at him and started to speak. "When Amilee and Rhae were born, we were extremely surprised; we weren't expecting twins. I never had any doctor visits because I have no health insurance and I couldn't afford two kids. I gave Rhae up and they both grew up without knowing each other. Recently, Rhae had been asking her adoptive family about her 'birth parents'. They decided that she should not get to know us and Rhae didn't take it well. She became obsessed and finally tracked us down. She would come by the house and pound on the door. She wouldn't leave us alone…she was insane. One day, Amilee decided that she was going to tell Rhae off and make her go away for good. They fought and fought and Amilee got pushed by Rhae. Rhae left and kept sending threats…I didn't know Amilee was going to do what she did…"

Captain Gregson had taken out his notepad and was jotting down notes. "Do you know where Amilee is right now?"

Mrs. Wentz shook her head.

Detective Bell came back with Miller in his arms and shrugged. "I don't know why he was whining…he didn't go."

Joan took Miller from his arms and set him on the ground. She unhooked him from the leash and the puppy took off running.

"What are you doing?!" Mr. Wentz yelled.

Sherlock looked to Joan for an answer.

"She's here…in the house." Joan pointed at the closet door. Miller was scratching and barking at the closet when Sherlock walked up to it.

"What's the matter, Miller? Is she in there?" Sherlock looked at Gregson for the 'go ahead' so he could open the door.

Captain Gregson nodded.

Sherlock opened the door and Joan held Miller back. Sure enough, a young woman resembling Rhae Polux, was crouched in the corner.

Sherlock stared at the young woman. "Why, hello there Amilee…we were just talking about you."

…

"I didn't do anything." Amilee stared at the steel table in front of her.

"Your mother has told us already how you _'took care' _of Rhae." Joan spoke calmly.

"She deserved it. She was the one threatening my family." Amilee crossed her arms.

"And you just decided to take it into your hands? You murder her and assume her identity?" Sherlock crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the interrogation room.

"Yeah, why not? I get her out of our lives and get all of my life insurance. It was a pretty good plan if I say so myself." Amilee smirked.

"Yet, you got caught…by a _dog_, I might add." Sherlock smiled.

"A dog?" Amilee narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"If it weren't for my dog Miller, we would've never re-opened your murder case. He made us take a second look at the photo of the woman in the morgue. You and Rhae may look alike, but you have one huge difference. Rhae wears a cross…you don't." Sherlock smiles at Joan to show her that they have solved the case and that Joan should be proud to be a big part of solving it.

"A dog solved this…?" Amilee scoffed. "What is this? Frickin' Scooby-Doo?"

Joan grinned. "You're going to jail. You thought your plan could fool anyone…but a dog figured it out. Not to hard of a case if you ask _me_."

Joan and Sherlock exchanged congratulatory smiles as the NYPD officer took Amilee away to get booked.

"Even if the dog did solve it, I'm proud of _you_, Watson." Sherlock smirked.

Joan swatted Sherlock's shoulder playfully. "Whatever."

**_THANKS FOR READING! THE MYSTERY IS SOLVED AND THE REST OF THIS STORY WILL JUST BE JOAN AND SHERLOCK'S ADVENTURES WITH MILLER. FOR EXAMPLE: MILLER ON WALKS, MILLER AT THE DOG PARK, AND POTTY TRAINING! MUCH MORE TO COME!  
PLEASE FAVORITE/FOLLOW AND REVIEW!_**


	5. Chapter 5-Dog Park

**_NEW CHAPTER! IT'S MILLER'S FIRST TIME AT THE DOG PARK! (JOAN/SHERLOCK'S TOO.)_**

Sherlock sat with his head resting in one of his hands as he watched Miller wander around the parlor. Miller hadn't sat still since the night before and Sherlock was getting worried that the poor puppy was sick. No dog would wander restlessly without eating or drinking, for twenty-four hours. He must either be sick or _extremely_ bored out of his mind.

Joan walked into the parlor, clutching a mug between her palms. She eyed Sherlock and then followed the consultants gaze down to the puppy, who was now scratching at the floor for no reason. She sat down on the couch and took a sip of her tea.

Sherlock didn't turn towards her as he spoke, "Do you think he's sick?"

Joan frowned. "I hope not." She took another sip of her tea as the silence settled in again. She sensed how worried Sherlock was, so she spoke up again. "Did you call the vet?"

"Yes. He told me to watch him overnight…so I did." Sherlock stifled a yawn.

"You stayed up all night?" Joan arched an eyebrow.

Sherlock nodded. "I hope he's alright."

Joan sighed. "I'm sure he is…Maybe he's bored…" Joan shrugged.

"Bored…" Sherlock contemplated this. He stood and clapped his hands.

Miller's ears perked up and he bounded towards Sherlock.

"Are you bored, boy?" Sherlock knelt down and patted the puppy's head.

Miller whined.

Sherlock motioned towards Joan. "Please bring me his collar and his leash."

Joan did as he requested. She set down her mug and went to retrieve the items. When she came back, Sherlock was using his 'baby' voice while he kept asking Miller if he wanted to go to the dog park. Miller was jumping around Sherlock's legs and wagging his tail. Joan smiled at the two of them. It was a rare sight to see Sherlock like this, guard down with his playful side showing.

Joan handed Sherlock Miller's collar and leash and retrieved both of their coats.

Sherlock placed the collar around the puppy's neck and clipped him to the leash. "Ready, Miller?" He asked in a high pitched tone. The puppy danced around his feet, getting Sherlock tangled up in the leash in the process.

Joan handed him his coat and they shuffled out the door.

…

Sherlock watched as Miller came to life and began playing with a tiny Yorkshire terrier named Lucy. Miller crouched and Lucy mimicked his motion. They both pounced at the same time and began to chase each other around the park.

Joan glanced sideways at Sherlock and then went back to watching Miller and Lucy. "It looks like Miller was just lonely and bored. I think if we take him here every so often he'll be fine…and less rambunctious."

"I like when he's rambunctious." Sherlock stated.

"Yes, but I can only handle one rambunctious thing at a time, Sherlock." Joan laughed.

Sherlock let a smile tug at his mouth.

Joan watched as a woman walked their way with her little Chihuahua. The Chihuahua raced towards the two other dogs and began to play.

"Which one's yours?" The woman asked Sherlock. The woman was dressed in a black pencil skirt with a purple blouse; clothes that were all too fancy for a dog park.

Sherlock looked her over and pointed to Miller. "The Golden Retriever puppy."

"What's his name?" She moved a little closer.

"Miller. What's yours named?" Joan answered her instead.

The woman ignored her as she continued to stare at Sherlock.

Sherlock glanced between the two women and smirked. "I believe my wife asked you a question." He took a hold of Joan's hand. He looked at the woman and stifled a laugh. She looked so embarrassed.

The woman shot a glare at Joan and called her dog's name. "FiFi!" Her dog came running and she scooped it up. She strutted away and left the two holding hands.

When the woman was out of sight, Joan began to laugh. Sherlock gave in and began to laugh with her.

"That is such a stupid name for a dog!" Joan laughed.

Sherlock smiled. He glanced down at their intertwined hands and he came back to reality. He yanked his hand away and looked down, embarrassed. "Sorry." He mumbled.

Joan smiled. "Don't worry. It's alright. If I didn't want you holding my hand, I wouldn't have let you grab it."

Sherlock lifted his head and met her gaze. He smiled and looked around at all the other dog-park-goers. "Will you do me a favor and hold my hand for the rest of the time we're here?"

Joan cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brow. "Why?"

Sherlock smirked. "I don't want to be hit on by anyone…especially by someone in a _dog park_."

"Why not? It's _so_ romantic." She asked sarcastically as she took his hand.

Sherlock squeezed her hand and smiled warmly. "Thanks."

Joan and Sherlock began to walk, hand in hand, down the paved path of the dog park as Miller began walking side-by-side with Lucy.

To any onlookers, they might have actually looked like a real family.

**_I HOPE I DON'T OFFEND ANYONE WHO HAS AN ANIMAL NAMED FIFI…ITS NOT THAT BAD OF A NAME…  
THANK'S FOR READING AND PLEASE FAV/FOLLOW/REVIEW!_**

A/N: I NAMED THE YORKIE LUCY AFTER LUCY LIU (JOAN WATSON).

**_NEXT UP: POTTY TRAINING!_**


	6. Accidents

_Squish._

Joan stopped dead in her tracks as she stepped in something soft and squishy.

_No…no, _please_ no._

"Sherlock!" Joan screamed, her tone demanding his presence immediately.

Sherlock's attention ripped from the file in front of him and directed itself toward Watson's cry from downstairs. He stood, grabbed the drool-covered tennis ball beside him, descended the stairs, and entered the kitchen, tossing the ball toward the puppy in the archway. He smiled as Miller caught it mid-air, this action bringing up the realization that Miller was growing up…_fast_. He turned his attention toward Joan, his smile dropping from his features as her cold, icy glare pierced through him.

"Watson?" Sherlock stepped back to protect himself from an attack, seeing as Joan looked like she would kill.

"Have you potty trained him yet?" She growled.

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. "Yes, I told you it was going well."

"Well, apparently not as well as you'd think." Joan looked down at her feet and gagged.

Sherlock followed her gaze, finally realizing the source of her anger. "Oh…" He gawked, not knowing what else to say. He couldn't say he was sorry, that wouldn't help. He couldn't make a snide remark, knowing that would just result in a hard slap across the cheek.

"_Oh_? That's all you can say is '_oh_'?" Joan closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Once she thought she had her frustration under control, she reopened her eyes. "Clean it up."

"But the case-"

"Clean. It. Up. _Now_." She demanded, her eyes narrowing. "I'll be in the shower." Joan hopped to the bathroom around the corner, saving the floor from her messy foot. As she rounded the corner, a certain puppy blocked her path, whining loudly. "Out of my way, dog."

Miller sulked away, whining with sad eyes.

Joan watched him go, feeling a pang of sadness sting her heart. She was about to call out after him and tell him she forgave him, but she knew the way to train a puppy was to praise him when he did something good, not praise him for bad behavior.

Joan hopped into the shower, spending the majority of her time cleaning and disinfecting her foot.

Sherlock looked over at the puppy cowering in the corner, whining as he looked on at the bathroom door. He crossed the floor and knelt down by the puppy. "Don't worry, Miller. I've been in the doghouse before and for you it'll be easier to get out of. One look in those puppy dog eyes of yours and she'll melt into forgiveness. For me, on the other hand…well, not so easy." He stood, opening the cupboard under the sink, and retrieved a few puppy training pads. "Back to the drawing board, huh?"

Miller set his head between his paws and let out a sigh.

…

Joan dried her hair, ruffling it through a large blue towel, and flipped it back. She wrapped a towel around her torso, feeling clean and refreshed. She gathered her dirty clothes and creaked the door open. She looked out into the hallway, keeping an eye out for a certain consulting detective, before venturing upstairs. No matter how long she continued to share the Brownstone with Sherlock, she would never feel entirely comfortable about him seeing her in nothing but a towel.

Instead of seeing Sherlock, she saw absolutely nothing.

_Odd_, she thought. Joan tiptoed up the stairs, the cold hardwood flooring feeling like ice on her naked feet. She escaped to her room, shutting the door behind her. The Brownstone was quiet, too quiet. What in the heck were they up to?

Joan turned and sighed in relief. Nothing in her room, that means Sherlock had finally (she hoped) realized his boundaries. She changed into her clothes for the day and combed her hair with the small hairbrush hidden in her nightstand. The ex-surgeon prepared herself to walk back downstairs, nervous about what she'd find. The Brownstone was unusually quiet, meaning Sherlock either blew something up and left to save himself from the scolding, or he had gotten a case. She hoped the latter, but seeing as he hadn't barged into the bathroom to inform her of such a case, it seemed unlikely. That meant Sherlock had done something, she just hoped that it wouldn't result in having to fix anything or clean up a giant mess.

Joan opened her door and immediately forgot her worries.

Sitting just outside her door was Miller, a sign roped loosely around his neck, reading 'I'm sorry, please let me out of the doghouse…Forgive me?'

Joan bent down and picked the puppy up, groaning with the effort. She had forgotten just how big he had gotten since the night they got him. "Of course I forgive you, honey. I love you!" She cooed, kissing his head.

Miller perked up and began to excitedly lick her face.

Joan laughed and set him down. "But," Miller stopped wagging his tail, "if I step in another pile of poop, it will not be as easy to be forgiven." She scolded.

Miller licked her shin cautiously, not wanting to suffer her wrath.

Joan smiled and began to descend the stairs. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock appeared at the foot of the stairs, a large pile of potty pads stacked up in his arms.

Joan stopped and quirked an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

Sherlock smirked and jerked his head toward the kitchen. "I've found a way to make sure he never excretes on the floor again!" He bounded toward the kitchen, dropping a training pad in the process.

Joan followed, picking up the pad as she went. The sight was enough to make her instantly burst out laughing.

The whole kitchen was covered in pee-pads, the wood floor not visible at all. Pee-pads coated the floor, pads overlapping and guaranteeing a mess-free floor.

"Sherlock, as _interesting_ as this is, it's not going to fix the problem of me stepping in his accidents…" Joan smiled weakly at the grinning detective.

His smile fell and he sighed. "I guess…"

"We just need to have him potty-trained, Sherlock, that's all. It'll take some work, but together we're sure to accomplish it." Joan linked her fingers with his.

"Together?" Sherlock's smile reappeared.

Joan nodded, pulling them both down to Miller's height. Joan and Sherlock sat on either side of Miller, their free hands stroking his glossy fur. "Together."

**_A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I just haven't been feeling the inspiration to write it! Don't worry, though. This story will be ongoing, just random drabbles about our favorite trio ;) _**

**_Someone suggested I make this just like Marley and Me, but that movie made me cry and I will not kill Miller off. I promise!_**

**_PLEASE FAVE/FOLLOW/REVIEW!_**

**_NEXT UP: LOST IN NEW YORK._**


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